


Insomnia

by ChronoXtreme



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fire Emblem Fates: Revelation Spoilers, Insomnia, Leo has an ASMR voice, Nightmares, One Shot, Pre-Relationship, Sleep Deprivation, Some pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronoXtreme/pseuds/ChronoXtreme
Summary: The problem isn't that Corrin can't sleep. Well, thatisa problem. A problem far bigger than she'd ever like to admit.The problem is that she falls asleep when she really, really shouldn't. Namely, in Leo's strategy tutoring lessons.It doesn't help that he has the most soothing voice she's ever heard.
Relationships: Leon | Leo & My Unit | Kamui | Corrin, Leon | Leo/My Unit | Kamui | Corrin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Insomnia

Today was a bad day for Corrin.

Not in the sense that bad things had happened; in that regard it was a rather pleasant day. There had been no fights in the army that she had to settle, no skirmishes with invisible soldiers, and they’d even had some spicy cole slaw for lunch. Aside from some meetings to strategize their next movements in Valla, it wasn’t even a busy day. No, the day itself was going well.

It was a bad day for two reasons. The first being that last night, she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, which created the second reason: no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stay awake.

And right now, in the middle of one of Leo’s — private! — strategy lessons, staying awake was top priority.

Propping her head up in her hands, she watched blearily as Leo’s hand moved across the chalk board he’d somehow managed to find in the Astral Plane — bless Lilith and her dragon veins. “As I covered last time, diversifying your army is a double edged sword. While it is good to have a counter to every possible scenario, if you don’t…”

Her eyes drooped low. It didn’t help that Leo was both very pleasant to look at (but she could never tell him that) and very pleasant to listen to. His voice was like a river, a steady current that swept her away…

No! Focus. Nod. Yes, nodding was good. Her nails dug into her palm as she tried to straighten up. But in less than a minute, she was slumping again, her head dangerously close to the open book in front of her.

_ Come on. Sit up. You’re better than this — don’t waste his time. _ She knew how hard Leo worked to teach her strategy. Hours upon hours spent in books, coming up with lesson plans, creating training scenarios for her. 

But none of that changed the fact that she was exhausted, and worse than usual. Last night…

“...rin?”

Crap. What did he say? “Sorry,” she mumbled, blinking hard as she looked up at him; Leo’s lips had tugged down into a frown, his brown eyes hard as flint. “Can you… Can you repeat that?”

“At this point, I’m not sure it would do any good.” Guilt twisted in her stomach like a knife as he sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “How much of this lesson do you remember?”

Cheeks burning with shame, she looked at the board. The diagram was completely different than what she remembered, and her book would give her no answers. “Diversity,” she croaked out. “You have to keep your troops diverse because… Because…” 

The look Leo gave her told her everything. “Corrin, I covered that fifteen minutes ago.”

_ What? How? _

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to…” She sighed, rubbing at her eyes with her hands as she bit back a frustrated sob.  _ Keep it together! You’re the leader of this army, act like it! _ “I’m sorry, Leo.”

“Corrin…” His voice was like a feather, soft and drifting. She looked at him in confusion as he rounded the small tea table she sat at, pulling up a chair. As he sat, his eyes focused on her with an intensity that would have had her shaking in her seat if not for the numb weariness. “Are you all right?”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m not angry at you,” he said quietly. “But you’ve been struggling to stay awake for the past half hour.” Her cheeks burned again, her gaze focusing on the small knot in the wood of the tabletop. “If you’re not feeling well, you should go see Elise or Sakura.”

“I’m not sick,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m fine, I promise.”

Leo raised an eyebrow, and she winced.  _ Right. I guess I wouldn’t be convinced either. _ “It’s okay to not be,” he said, his eyes soft. “To be honest… You’ve been out of it all day. What’s wrong?”

A lump rose in her throat. Somehow, he was always looking out for her, despite being younger. And, well… He deserved the truth. Some of it, anyway. “Nothing’s wrong, really. I just couldn’t sleep last night. I have trouble sleeping sometimes. Last night was just worse.” 

She didn’t speak about the nightmares. He didn’t need to know about those quite yet. 

Leo’s eyes narrowed. “Define ‘trouble sleeping.’”

She bit her lip; what could she say? It wasn’t like he would freak out, but he’d already done so much for her with these lessons. She didn’t want to stress him out, and the thought of someone else worrying about her was unbearable.

“Some nights it takes me a long time to fall asleep,” she said carefully, unable to look up from the table. “And other nights I can’t stay asleep.” That didn’t sound too suspicious, right?

Yet his lips pursed. “You have insomnia?”

“Yeah, that’s the word.” Maybe she should have gone with that? And technically it was true — she  _ did _ have a hard time falling and staying asleep. Even without the nightmares she’d find herself looking up at the ceiling for hours, worrying over the state of the army, of Hoshido and Nohr, about Anankos.

Gunter had told her over and over that worrying was like sitting in a rocking chair — all you did was waste a lot of energy going nowhere. But what else could she do? No matter how tired she was, her brain just wouldn’t shut off at night like it used to. Midnight sparring didn’t help — her body was fatigued, but her mind… 

She shivered, and not because she was cold.

“You’ve never had difficulty sleeping before,” Leo pointed out, and she winced. “In fact, you usually have the opposite problem.” He frowned, gaze still laced with concern. “How long has this been going on?”

“Not a long time.”

His eyes narrowed again. “Don’t lie to me, Corrin. How long have you had trouble sleeping properly?”

She sighed; she couldn’t hide everything from him forever. “Ever since Mo— Mikoto… passed away.” Running a hand through her hair, she stared at the table. “So… six months? Seven?” Gods, it had already been that long? Where had the time gone?

“You haven’t had a proper night’s rest in seven  _ months?” _ Leo’s voice practically dripped with agitation.

_ Well, when you put it that way… _ “I mean, sometimes I have a good night’s sleep. It’s not like this happens all the time,” she protested. And that was true. Every few weeks she got so worn out she could sleep through the night. “I’m really sorry, Leo. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“You didn’t,” he said, but the distress in his voice didn’t go away. “You fell asleep at the strategy meeting earlier.” 

She winced. “Sorry.”

Another sigh passed his lips, but he didn’t look as upset as before. Just… worried. Which was what she’d tried to avoid; he didn’t need to get sucked into all her problems. “Have you talked to someone about this?” he asked quietly. “To help you sleep?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Jakob brews a tea for me. And I take a three minute hot shower thirty minutes before bed.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Who told you do that?”

“Camilla.” She smiled faintly. “I know, it sounds silly. But I’ll try anything at this point, really. I don’t want to fall asleep during meetings, I swear.”

“I know.” His eyes softened. “But nothing has helped?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m—”

“Don’t.” Yet his voice was gentle. “Don’t apologize.”

“I don’t want to waste your time,” she protested.

“You’re not.” And when his lips quirked up into a small smile, her heart fluttered. “Besides, even without insomnia, I understand that battle strategy isn’t always the most exciting subject.”

“It’s not that,” she said. “You teach really well. It’s your…” She flushed, ducking her head down at the table.  _ Whoops. _

“My what?” he asked dryly. When she shook her head, he scowled. “You can’t just say something like that and not expect me to be curious about it. Come on, out with it.”

Fair enough. “Promise not to laugh?” she said, looking up through her eyelashes.

“I promise. Now, what is it?” His lips were still tugged down into a frown; he looked almost comically upset. 

“It’s your voice,” she said softly, smiling wearily at him. “It’s… soothing. When I listen to it, I can’t help it — my eyes get all heavy and I can’t stay awake.”

To her surprise, Leo  _ blushed. _ “My voice?” he croaked.

She giggled. “Yeah. You just speak so smoothly. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice voice. I think that’s the problem. You sound too good and I just…” Her hand fell limply against the table. “Fall asleep.”

He sighed, and she had to bite back another giggle. “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that,” he grumbled, rising from his chair to move back to the blackboard. 

“I know.” She rubbed her eyes, straightening up in her chair. “And I’m—” A glare from Leo silenced her, and she smiled tiredly. “I, uh…” She cleared her throat, hands balling into fists on the tabletop. “I swear to do better, Leo.”

Slowly, he nodded, but that concern still lingered in his gaze. “Turn to page 124 in your book,” he said, turning back to the chalkboard. “We’ll finish up with that for today.” 

Biting back a yawn, she turned to the page and blinked back sleep as best she could. 

* * *

Despite the fervency of her words, Corrin, alas, did not do better.

Oh, she  _ tried _ to stay awake — Leo could see the effort she exerted. She would hold books up so that if she grew drowsy she would drop them and the sound would startle her. More than once he saw her toss down coffee as black as night before joining him in his room for lessons. She even tried to give herself a sugar high by eating a disgusting amount of bonbons. Yet like clockwork, when fifteen minutes remained of their lesson, he would turn around and find her slumped over the tea table, face pressed into a book.

“I’m learning through osmosis,” she joked one time, but beneath the levity and the bottomless apologies, he could see her worry.

The circles under her eyes did not fade. They only grew deeper. And that worried him as well.

He’d managed to wheedle more information out of her during their lessons, and what he’d discovered painted a grim picture. Corrin could rarely sleep for more than three hours at a time, and those were the nights she could sleep at all. Honestly, a part of him was impressed — a normal person would have caved under such conditions far sooner than she had. Most likely her draconic heritage had something to do with her perseverance.

But even that couldn’t sustain her forever. Though she hadn’t told him everything, he knew what was ailing her: battle fatigue, plain and simple. He’d had to battle his own nights of insomnia, his own night terrors, and he knew the signs. Corrin never told him about nightmares, but sometimes when he woke her up she flinched away from him.

Deep inside himself, a bitter cynical voice whispered that if he had just joined her army when she’d asked him at Izumo, perhaps he could have intervened earlier. Perhaps he could have taught her how to manage the night terrors, or at least given her less reason to have them. Perhaps her eyes wouldn’t be so empty and those circles so dark and deep. But constantly dwelling on past mistakes would get them both nowhere.

He was here now, and he would do his best to help Corrin — strategically or otherwise.

“Elise,” he said over dinner, once Corrin had left their table to go chat with other members of the army. “You wouldn’t have access to sleeping draughts, would you?”

“Sleeping draughts?” Her brow furrowed. “You mean like a sedative?”

“Nothing that serious,” he corrected. “Just something to help a person sleep.” Camilla’s eye flitted over to them, her look knowing. 

“Sorry, we don’t,” Elise said with a sigh, poking at her food with a fork. “All the stuff I brought with me is too powerful for that sort of thing, and Sakura doesn’t have much besides some herbal teas. That’s the best we can do. Why, can you not sleep?”

“I sleep fine,” he said quietly, looking down at his plate. “Just asking for a friend.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure Sakura can brew something up! She’s amazing with all those teas.”

Unfortunately, a visit to Sakura did not result in much better news. “I think this is the strongest I can make it,” she said, handing him a small jar filled with leaves and berries. “B-But this is my last batch.”

Leo frowned. “Someone else uses this blend?”

“C-Corrin does.” Sakura sighed, her eyes downcast as she stared at the jar’s contents. “But it doesn’t seem to help much. She’s still so tired…” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Prince Leo. I should have more in a few weeks. Will this tide you over until then?”

“It’s perfectly fine.” He pressed the jar back into her hands. “I think I should be able to manage without.”

He’d been tempted to make his own brew using Brynhildr to grow the herbs needed. But he was not trained as a healer, and experimentation in the middle of a war could prove deadly. Corrin could stay awake on the battlefield, at least. He would continue to keep both of his eyes on her, as often as he could spare them.

For now, there was no solution to her mid-lesson naps. And despite knowing the source, that frustrated him more than he’d like to admit.

“In this scenario, remember the rule of three,” Leo said, chalk scraping against the board as he drew lines over the “battlefield” he’d sketched earlier. “If your forces can’t be divided into three groups with support for all, then a pincer attack won’t work. You need at least three healers for each group to keep your casualty cost…”

Corrin was oddly silent.

“... minimal.” He sighed, dropping the chalk to the board’s rim as he tried to push back his annoyance. “Corrin?”

Silence.

When he turned, it was as he expected: she had fallen asleep slumped back in her chair, a book in her lap. Irritation flashed through him. It had only been twenty minutes, and she was  _ already _ asleep? This was a new low. Dusk and darkness, he wasn’t  _ that _ boring, was he? 

A childish part of him wanted to hurl the chalk at her. Instead he sucked in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.  _ This is fine. This is completely fine. I’ll just wake her up and redo this whole lesson, and then she’ll fall asleep again and forget it anyway. _ Letting out a heavy sigh, he moved to shake her awake.

Then paused, eyes wide.

Most of the time when Corrin fell asleep, she was facedown in a book, her hair like a silver sea engulfing the table. But this time, he could see her face, and this was no peaceful nap. Every so often her mouth twitched, a little hiss of breath passing her lips. Her brow furrowed, from deep concentration or concern he couldn’t tell. Even her shoulders were hunched up, her legs pulled up onto the chair as if she wanted to curl up in a ball. To defend herself? Hide?

A tiny gasp caused her entire body to jerk, her face warped in something that looked disturbingly like pain, and he pulled his hand back.

_ If this is how she sleeps every night… _ It was one thing to hear about her symptoms. It was another to see them for himself. Guilt twisted his stomach, and he turned back to the board, rubbing away chalk dust between his fingertips. Detailed diagrams stared back at him, carefully labeled with different colors. Over an hour of work spent. Work that could still be used, in time.

Lesson plans could wait. Corrin didn’t need advanced strategy and tactics drilled into her head. She needed sleep. Sleep that wasn’t a short nap curled up in a chair. As he glanced around the room —  _ his _ room — his eyes alighted on a solution.

_ This is a mistake,  _ the more careful part of his brain warned him. The last thing he should do was stoke the feelings that already simmered inside himself. No matter how he felt about her, Corrin likely did not feel the same, and to do this would be an imposition.

Another gasp, this one louder, and his chest tightened.

_ If you choose not to help her, then why did you bother joining her? _

No, he was not a healer. He didn’t have calming teas or herbs. Even if he did, he likely wouldn’t know exactly how to brew them properly. But he did have an empty bed that she could use. 

He could do that much, at least.

* * *

Two things always remained in the end: the darkness and the cold.

She couldn’t breathe, the air in her lungs as frigid and solid as ice as she heard the screams echo. Voices, calling out to her,  _ begging _ her to help them, to not let them die. She knew each and every one — she’d heard them all before. 

Those she had killed. Those she could not save. Those she had to protect.

Those she would eventually fail, just as she had all the others.

“Corrin!” She whimpered at the wails — was that Elise or Sakura? “Please, it hurts!”

“No, I just want to go home! I didn’t—”

“—  _ little monster, I’ll gut you—” _

“— not hurt? Ah… I’m so…”

No fingers over her ears could block out the cacophony. No apology could ever silence them. Nothing could stop the voices. Sometimes she would see their faces, hollow eyes and bloodied teeth staring up at her. She couldn’t escape them no matter where she ran.

Escape was pointless anyway. To forget these faces would be worse than remembering them.

Yet as she curled into herself, fingers digging into her scalp as she wept, warmth brushed her skin.

_ What…? _ Then she froze.

_ It’s so… quiet. _

Nothing shrieked at her. No one begged her to save them, lead them, slay them. And the warmth that surrounded her… it was soft. Her cheek rested against something firm, and a soft pulse beat against her ear. Steady, slow. Instinctively she drew closer to the sound, fingers tangling in cloth as she listened.

The creak of bedsprings. The softness of a blanket. A quiet voice, gentle and familiar, whispering, “Sleep well, Corrin.”

This was too wonderful to be a dream. So she forced her eyes open, blinking blearily.

Hovering over her with a pink face was Leo.

Leo?

“Ah,” he said, wincing. “You’re awake.”

So she was. She blinked a few more times, looking around. Huh. This wasn’t her room. Her room didn’t have a chalkboard in it. Or so many books…

Oh.

Oh no.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. “I fell asleep again, didn’t I?” Again. It was like some sort of curse; every time she  _ wanted _ to try and stay awake her body feel asleep, and every time she  _ wanted _ to sleep she couldn’t. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to hold back her tears. “I’m so, so sorry, Leo, I didn’t mean to…”

“Hush.” Her eyes flew open as his hand pressed to her shoulder, coaxing her back down into the bed —  _ his _ bed. “Get some rest.”

“But…” Her lip trembled. “Your lesson—”

“Can wait until you’ve actually slept for more than three hours.” Despite his blunt words, he looked kindly at her, amber eyes soft. “Sleep, Corrin.”

This was so bizarrely  _ un _ -Leo that she wondered if she wasn’t dreaming after all. But she wouldn’t argue — his bed wasn’t any softer than hers, but it was warm, and she sank back down under the covers. His pillow smelled like mint and honeysuckle, and she smiled as the blankets fell over her shoulders. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

Something brushed her hair, feather light. “Think nothing of it,” he murmured back, his voice just as soft.

Well, if this was a dream, it was a good one.

Up until the bedsprings creaked and she saw him move towards the door.

“Wait,” she choked out, her hand reaching for his. Somehow she caught his wrist, though it was a poor grip. She waited for his hand to slip out of hers, for him to vanish into the dark with all the others.

But he stopped, looking down at her with parted lips.

“Stay.” She swallowed thickly. “Please.” 

She didn’t want him to disappear into that darkness. She didn’t want to be left alone again. But that was what they would all do in the end, wouldn’t they? Everyone she cared about would slip through her fingers, like sand through an hourglass. She could never hold on to what she loved most. She didn’t deserve to.

Tears welled as he slid out of her grasp, walking away. Squeezing her eyes shut, she curled up beneath the blankets, trying hard to cling to the warmth of the bedding.  _ You can’t keep him anyway. You’re not meant to. _

The scrape of a chair against wood made her jump, and she looked up wide-eyed to see Leo sit down next to the bed, a book in hand. Her face burned as she blinked hard, trying to push her tears away. Gods, the last thing she needed was for him to see her crying.

If he saw something, he didn’t say it. He just sat there, his free hand wrapping around hers. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, holding onto her with a firm grasp. 

And despite knowing he didn’t mean it  _ that _ way, her heart still fluttered.

Easing back into the blankets, she looked up at him. “Can you read to me?” she asked, her voice little more than a raspy croak. When he raised his eyebrow, she blushed. “Your voice… it lulls me to sleep. Remember?”

“I do.” He smirked. “Very well. But you can’t complain about the subject matter.”

“I won’t,” she mumbled, looking up at him. “Promise.”

For a moment Leo didn’t say anything. 

Then, his thumb running over her knuckles, he opened the book and propped it up with one arm, the rustle of the pages soothing in her ears. “Chapter thirty four,” he began; she smiled as he leaned back in his seat. “On the crucial importance of weapon maintenance and satisfactory supply orders for troops, especially in inclement weather.”

His voice was better than any calming tea Jakob could brew. It was almost like a lullaby — albeit a very monotone lullaby — and her eyelids felt heavy as she snuggled deeper into the covers. Every so often she heard a rustle as he turned the page, the creak of the leatherbound cover, but his voice and his thumb tracing the contours of her hand was a constant. And as the familiar darkness encroached upon her, she didn’t feel afraid. She was warm, buried beneath covers, surrounded by mint and honeysuckle, wrapped in a soft voice that rose and fell like the waves of the ocean. 

She was not alone.

The voice faded as she fell asleep. Yet before the dream could begin, she heard the soft  _ thump _ of a book closing and felt that soft brush against her hair. She smiled as she drifted away, safe in the sound of Leo’s voice.

_ “Sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Not a very spoopy fic for Halloween, but nightmares are kinda spoopy, right?
> 
> Yes, I'm still writing for this pairing in 2020. I'll always love my babies. (And do I have several fic ideas planned? Yes)
> 
> While Revelation is easily the route that's lightest on the angst, war and the trauma of both of your families calling you a traitor has a lasting impact on a person. I want to cover that last bit more in a different fic, but I also wanted some wholesome fluffy times, so this oneshot was born. It's also based on my experience trying desperately to act like I was totally awake... in a private tutoring session. When you're the only student in the classroom, it's rather difficult to avoid being caught, haha.


End file.
